The tank
by Milena73
Summary: Parts of this story are AU, except for Liz is going to be a profiler with the FBI, and Raymond Reddington wants to speak only with her. Ressler is the case agent and her supervisor, but he's more than that because he and Liz had met before. And Liz isn't the only one Red speaks with... Keenler!
1. Chapter 1

_After I wrote "The Blacklist revisited (Alice)" I took all parts of the story I created myself and wrote the novel "Blaue Blume" ("Blue Flower", only available in German). Now I'm bringing parts of it back to The Blacklist. :D The following chapter is slightly M, but as the story has also K-parts I decided to rate it T. There are more genres than the chosen ones-romance, mystery, suspense, humor, family, hurt/comfort - the whole bunch. ;) It's going to be a 10-12 chapter-story. I hope you'll enjoy it. :)_

* * *

On Saturday evening, Don parked his car near a big building in the so-called Penn Quarter, a revitalized historic neighborhood in downtown Washington, DC, now an arts and entertainment district with many restaurants, nightclubs, and trendy stores.

Liz had her apartment in the upper floor of a former warehouse, and Don took the ancient elevator. He liked the groaning and strain the wires caused when the mechanism started, the windows from which he could watch the stairway while travelling along the floors, and the creaking, old sliding door he had to open at the end of the journey.

He entered a long hall with only two doors. One had the label "Dry space," and out of curiosity Don had had a look once. It simply lead to an attic in which the tenants could hang up laundry. The discovery had almost been disappointing.

Quietly, he knocked at the second door, made of red painted metal, and it wasn't long until Liz opened. She loved to stage herself, and was now posed in the door frame, wearing nothing but a black-and-white negligee and the fragrance of an expensive body lotion. Her dark-blond hair fell in soft waves on her bare shoulders, her blue eyes beamed with joy, and her youthful, firm breasts seemed to arch towards him as if they wanted to be touched. She was a vision of temptation.

As usual Don said not a word, but grasped her round the waist, pulled her close to him, and kissed her enticing shimmering lips that were slightly opened in expectation of him- _she tastes great_ , while she huddled against him even closer.

They had begun their game spontaneously a few months ago when they met at a wine store, shortly before closing time. Don stopped there on his way home, Liz bought champagne for a girls' round, only wearing a coat over a wisp of nothing she had tried on before and had simply kept on.

The sexual attraction between them had been obvious to both of them. She had lured him into a niche beside the store where they kissed and touched each other passionately, and finally arranged a meeting for more in Liz's apartment.

They never spoke much, hence, they didn't know much about each other, but it was part of the game. Two strangers who met now and then to have fun. Most of the time they met at Liz's apartment; sometimes they started their game in a club or in a restaurant, and they acted as if they had never met before, seducing each other over and over again.

Aside from the bathroom the apartment had only two big, light rooms. A combined kitchen, dining and living room, and a combined office and bedroom. Gigantic windows gave a splendid view over the city. The city lights illuminated the indecent game on Liz's big bed. She loved to use sheets made of sateen or silk when she knew Don would come by. In general, she celebrated these moments, created an erotic atmosphere with the right light, sometimes added music, or occasionally a few toys.

She assumed that he thought he wasn't her only lover, but he was. (Furthermore, she assumed that he was in a committed relationship because he never offered to take her to his apartment; she didn't care, though.) She had never met a man before who would have understood this game, its rules, her wishes and ambitions, her desires and expectations.

When Liz had begun to explore her sexuality, she expected men to be uncomplicated and to love the mysterious, however, she only met guys who thought they had to have a polite, trivial conversation, who started interfering with her life after a short time, visiting or calling her unasked and unwanted.

In addition, most of them were lousy lovers, reached their climax too early or too late, weren't well endowed, didn't really care about her needs, were fixated on previous experiences, and went too hard or too soft.

Don was perfect on all points, so she limited herself to him. Though she considered him as just an affair and not as a boyfriend, he was definitely the best affair she ever had. He conformed to her schedule, he didn't ask any stupid questions, he was able to take her hard, so she would feel like walking on air, and he was subtle enough to play a slow, exciting game. She felt safe with him, so she dared to live fantasies she would not otherwise have been brave enough to try, like being tied up or blindfolded. And sometimes-like now-he would give her the control to move their bodies and set the pace.

The best thing about him was that he was waiting for her, even if it was difficult for him, particularly in moments like these when she tensed her inner muscles as if she wanted to skin him. He backed off until she threw back her head, with a loud gasp, and he could feel the fine vibration of her muscles that made it easy to let go.

 _He's gorgeous!_ Liz flopped on his chest, exhausted and breathing heavily, while Don put an arm around her shoulders, enjoying the aftermath of their passion. She really was fun in bed. Everything was easy, without obligations, questions, or considerations as to whether they had to take it to the next step.

His body felt relaxed and tired in a pleasant way, and he enjoyed her soft skin on his. He could have fallen asleep right away, but he struggled to stay awake. Tonight was the night. Maybe it would change their relationship, maybe this would be their last night. He didn't like that idea, but there was no way out.

Although it contradicted the unwritten rules of their game, he finally said, "I have to talk to you."

Liz lifted her head in surprise, without changing her position. "About what?"

"I learned today that you're gonna start working as a profiler with the FBI on Monday, and that I'm gonna be your supervisor."

Her eyes were shimmering in the faint light that was pouring through the window. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. "My supervisor? You are-"

"I'm with the FBI, exactly."

It made her laugh. "This is crazy! I've already had an affair with my supervisor before I've even started working?"

Don grinned. "Exactly." He stroked her hair back that fell over her shoulders and into her face, caressed her cheeks, and smiled at her. "But I'm not your supervisor tonight. By the way, you won't start working at headquarters. Maybe you've heard about Raymond Reddington? He's No. 4 on the Most Wanted list, and I'm the case agent. A few days ago he surrendered to the FBI, and he insisted on speaking with you."

Liz tried to remember that name, but she was sure she had never heard it before-except of reading it on the Most Wanted wall. "Why the hell does he want to speak with me?"

Don shrugged. "He wouldn't say. The only possible reason we could think of is that he might know your parents." Liz had been adopted and her biological parents were unknown. "So, we decided to give him what he wants and see what will happen. In any case, I wanted you to know before you run into me at work. I think we should act as if we have never met before." He smiled.

She smiled back. "Shouldn't be that difficult, should it? We're used to it." Her fingers softly stroked his smooth skin. She loved the feeling when he tensed his muscles. Up to now it hadn't been important to her that her lovers were toned, but she had to admit that it was great when steel-hard muscles closed around her, giving her a feeling of helplessness. "It's really strange that he wants to speak with me. Wasn't Reddington with the Navy before he turned into a criminal?" When Don nodded, she added, "Maybe he really knew my father because the only thing I remember about him is that he was wearing the uniform of a Navy pilot."

"I guess, we will find out." Without hurrying, he gently stroked her body. "I was surprised when Reddington asked for you. Maybe he did it because he knows about our affair and wants to use it as leverage in the right moment. Maybe it's a coincidence. However, I thought you should know." He put his hand on her bottom. He loved it; it was soft, well-rounded and a real temptation. To his luck it was Liz's most sensitive spot. "You might consider taking appropriate action because of having principles about never sleeping with colleagues or stuff like that. Perhaps you want to end it, or maybe you decide that you don't care. I'll accept whatever you will choose."

Actually, Liz never wanted to be one of these women who had an affair with their supervisors. On the other hand, this affair was a special one and she didn't want to end it. Deep in thoughts she kissed his chest and his neck, and noticed once again the pleasant smell of his skin that reminded her of summer. "Do you want to end it?"

"I didn't say that." Don turned his head and caressed her full, soft lips affectionately with his. "I just have an understanding for principles," he mumbled.

An impassioned shiver ran through her body, and she kissed him back. "Is it against your principles having an affair with a colleague?"

"I didn't say that," he repeated and pulled her closer, caressing her bottom.

"I think, I'm not very principled," she whispered. She looked up and smiled at him. "And I'm curious of Reddington and my new supervisor."

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, Padria95! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

"How did she react?" Red asked, while they were walking along the stands and tents at the folk festival. They had decided to meet here because it was unlikely they would meet someone who knew them. Nevertheless, both of them glanced around carefully.

"Surprised, but calm," Don replied. "I told her your interest in speaking with her might be because of her parents, and she said the only thing she could remember about her father was the uniform of a Navy pilot."

Red nodded. "One of the easiest things for a child to remember. Will she end the affair?" He looked at Donald, trying to guess what the younger man might think.

Don avoided his look by watching the people walking by. "I don't think so."

"Good." Red headed for one of the food tents. The meeting earlier that day had lasted too long; he was starving.

 _That's typical for him_ , Don thought when Red entered a gourmet tent. _He really should watch his weight._ He looked at Red's belly. _Did he put on some more pounds lately?_ "I'm still against it. We should tell her and ask what she knows instead of playing that stupid game."

"We're not playing it because of her, but because of Vincent's group," Red reminded him, elbowing his way through the crowd and heading purposefully for the buffet.

Don shook his head but followed him. "Maybe she could help us more if we simply say what we are looking for. I couldn't find the coordinates in her apartment-perhaps she doesn't even know that she has them."

"We don't know what Vincent will do. The less she knows the more believable she will react. How much have you learned about her in the meantime?" Red piled delectable foods on his plate-filet laces, stuffed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, ravioli with sage butter, deep-fried calamari...

"We don't talk much. We are busy with more interesting things." Don decided on some grilled vegetables. "I had a good look at the stuff in her apartment. She seems to be quite a normal woman."

"Your job was to get to know her."

"My job was to get in touch with her," Don contradicted. "It was up to me in as to what way I did that."

"By touching her," Red commented ironically and sat down at one of the many long tables in the tent, putting the full plate in front of him. "Wordless sex isn't very helpful."

 _But pretty good._ Don took a seat beside him. "Don't be so bitchy."

"I am not bitchy!" _What kind of word is that? And has he really just compared me to a teenage girl?_ Red hated it when Donald put his behavior in a nutshell because most of the time he was damn right.

"Right now you are pretty bitchy."

Red glanced at him in displeasure. "I should have bent you over any available piece of furniture and slapped you silly when I had the chance."

"Too late." Don grinned, watching Red empty his plate in no time. _A hungry wolf is a lousy amateur in comparison with him._ "It doesn't change the fact that you're bitchy."

Red grimaced. "Sometimes," he admitted grudgingly. "However, you'll have to change your relationship to her now."

"It will change by itself." Don was sure of that. "She is new to the job, the situation will be strange, she will think that you are horrible and that the only one she can talk to is me."

"So, that's your plan-that she thinks I'm horrible and therefore needs someone to talk to?"

"I think it's a good plan," Don said. "In any case it's much better than pretending to be a super-criminal."

"Now _you_ are bitchy." Red got up and went over to the dessert buffet, but it was difficult to decide what to take. _Too many delicious things._ When Donald joined him, he remarked, "My mother used to make these small tartlets with filling and cream on top. Do you know what I mean?"

Ever since they had met Red kept telling him stories like these. He should be used to it by now, but he couldn't help but be amazed every time. "I never met your mom, so I don't think I know what you mean." Don wavered between a dessert made of yoghurt and fresh fruits- _would be reasonable-_ and the favored chocolate cake. _I bet one little piece of it has about 2,000 calories._

"They have a certain name. It's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't think of it right now. They are only that big," Red used his hands to demonstrate, "mostly filled with fruit or chocolate, and cream on top."

"Filled muffin with cream?"

"Are you sure?"

Don shrugged. "Perhaps they are just called tartlets with filling and cream. Do I look like a confectioner?"

"No, you look as if you don't even know the word _cake_ ," Red promptly retorted and looked at Donald's belly.

"Are you jealous?" Don asked with a sweet voice. He wasn't vain, but he was satisfied with his appearance and enjoyed it when women looked at him covetously and men with envy. "Remember what your doctor said about your last blood test results." He decided on the chocolate cake and returned to their table.

In a bad mood, Red followed him with a small piece of apple cake in hand. "Don't," he cut him off before Donald could even open his mouth.

Don put on an innocent face. "What?" He asked, before eating his chocolate cake with delight.

"Ask me to play squash with you or whatever other ridiculous activity might come to your evil mind."

"It's no fun playing against someone who gives up after the first round," Don teased him, causing Red to throw him an angry look.

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, Padria95! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

"Agent Keen?" She heard _his_ voice when she left the house on early Monday morning. Well, to be honest, she was late. She had woken up half an hour ago, had had a quick shower, had put on the next best clothes she could find, and now here she was with a half eaten piece of toast in hand.

Liz turned her head and looked at him. _I've never seen him in daylight before_ , she realized. He was still attractive, but something about him was strange and unfamiliar. _Probably the suit and the tie. He looks_ , she thought about the right word, _uptight._ It almost made her laugh. She only knew him in jeans and a t-shirt-and in his nude-and now he was standing there, next to a black SUV, all dressed up and serious, accompanied by another agent. She put on a serious face too. "Yes?"

Don got closer and showed her his ID. "Donald Ressler, Washington field office. I need you to come with me right away."

It was also the first time ever she heard his full name. For her he was Don, her secret lover who would fulfil all her sexual fantasies. Suddenly she felt naked, although she was wearing more clothes than he had ever seen her in. "I have orders to come to headquarters."

"Well, the orders have changed." He opened the front passenger's door and gestured for her to get into the car. It was a strange feeling to meet her in an everyday environment. She was still good-looking, but she looked like any normal woman in her dark business suit. There wasn't much that reminded him of the exciting creature of the night who would welcome him in provocative lingerie. _I guess that's a good thing. I should really try to see her as a colleague._ On the other hand, he knew it was going to be difficult.

"Do you know Raymond Reddington?" Don asked when he was driving down the road towards the Post Office.

Liz looked over her shoulder and glanced at the agent in the back seat. He didn't seem to be listening, but she kept playing her part. "He's on the Most Wanted list."

They repeated the conversation they had had two nights before, but Don added some information about Reddington, "He graduated from law school with a bachelor's degree before he attended Naval Academy. He graduated in 1984, top of his class. After that, his career was fast tracked at the ONI*, where he was part of some classified operations. His last rank was that of a Rear Admiral. Then, suddenly, in January 1991, he disappeared from the face of the Earth until four years later, when classified NOFORM documents started to show up. These leaks were traced to Reddington. He built an enterprise brokering deals for fellow criminals, and he's one of the most dangerous criminals we've ever dealt with. Your main task is to find out why he surrendered to the FBI, what he wants, and why he wants to speak with you. There has to be a link we aren't aware of."

Liz nodded, still confused about the fact that Reddington had asked for her. "What is this place?" She asked when Don drove into the garage of a big building, closely watched by surveillance cameras and armed guards.

Don told her about the history and usage of the Post Office while he was leading her to the war room where they met Cooper, who shook hands with Liz.

"Did Agent Ressler tell you what this is about?"

Liz took a glimpse down the hall to the box in which a man was sitting, chained to a chair. It reminded her of Hannibal Lector, and it made her shiver. "Yes, sir."

Cooper and Don looked at each other. _Does she know anything?_ Cooper seemed to ask. _No, sir_ , was the non-verbal response.

"Be careful," Don warned her. "He seems friendly, but he's dangerous and good at manipulating people." Inwardly, he laughed. _Red, the dangerous criminal_. At the same time he felt bad because **he** was the one who was manipulating her. _This whole thing is bullshit._

"If you need anything, we are right here," Cooper said and opened the door for her. It was like sending a slave into the arena with a wild lion.

Liz carefully went down the stairs, across the hall, towards the box, and sat down on the chair that had been put there for her. She tried to ignore the heavily armed guards around them and forget about Don and Cooper in the observation room.

"Agent Keen, what a pleasure." Red smiled at her. _Beautiful woman. No wonder, Donald decided to get in touch with her by touching her._

He was acting as if they knew each other, but, to Liz, he wasn't familiar at all. She tried to ask him about the things Don had advised her to, but Red would distract her at every turn.

"You know, if anyone can give me a second chance, it's you," he finally said, smiling artfully. "The two of us have overcome so much. I mean, look at you. Your parents were career criminals, and yet you are about to make a name for yourself-about to capture all the names on the blacklist."

"I was told the reason you want to speak with me is that you might have known my parents," she replied sharply, trying not to show him how nervous she was. "Is that true? Did you know my parents?"

Red tilted his head as if he was thinking. "I know what they did."

"And what did they do?"

"The answer isn't as easy as the question seems. The question isn't easy, either." Red loved sentences like these. He took a glance at the observation room opposite of him. It was too far away to see it, but he knew what kind of face Donald was making right now. He grinned, causing Liz to throw him an angry look. "I suggest you take care of the first name on the blacklist. This environment is so," he glanced around and moved his cuffed hands as far as he could, "uncomfortable."

Liz assumed that he was hoping for immunity after delivering them some high valuable criminals. If he was moving freely he might give her some information about what he was really after. This whole thing made her uneasy. Not knowing who her real parents had been was the huge mystery of her life. It felt to her as if she had a hole in the middle of her soul, as if there was a missing piece. It drove her crazy that she couldn't remember anything, or at least, nothing in particular. No names or faces or a special event that would tie her to her roots. And she didn't like the idea that someone like Reddington knew more about her than she did.

"So, all we learned is that it is about my parents," Liz summed up when she was back in the observation room.

"What do you know about them?" Don asked, feeling sorry for her. She looked confused and unhappy, and once again he was thinking about ending this game. _She doesn't know anything_ , he was sure of that, _but she might help us speed things up, instead of waiting for Vincent to move._

"Nothing, or not much," she replied in despair. "If I was able to tell you anything, I would be happy to help you. But all I remember is that my father was wearing the uniform of a Navy pilot. There was a fire, but I don't know if it is connected to him in any way."

"You were found in front of a hospital and were given to Foster care," Don added. "Maybe it's about something you were wearing or carrying with you," he tried to find out if that game was worth playing at all.

Liz frowned. "I had some things with me, but nothing special. Some clothes and toys in a bag. Nothing else."

Don was about to ask if she still had these things, but then he decided to wait a while. His superiors would kill him if he gave the game away too early. He knew they were watching him carefully. "At the moment he's establishing value. Let's see what will happen next."

* * *

* Office of Naval Intelligence

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	4. Chapter 4

It was the first time in weeks that Don and Liz found some time to meet in a restaurant again to play one of their "stranger meets stranger" games.

The past weeks had been hard and difficult for both of them. Red had kept them busy with some extraordinary blacklisters, and as much as Don was fine with putting away some high valuable criminals, he wished it hadn't been necessary to do it that way.

To be honest, Liz wasn't a really good profiler, and she wasn't a good field agent, either. She was new to the job, inexperienced, and she wasn't equipped for a special unit-maybe she never would be. He had had to save her life a few times, she had made some bad mistakes, and if it wasn't for the deal they supposedly had with Reddington the super-criminal, she would have been ordered to another department in no time.

"She'll be dead before we get any information from her," he had warned his superiors.

Besides, it felt awkward to criticize her. As her supervisor he was right to, but as her lover he just felt bad. _You shouldn't sleep with someone you work with, and you shouldn't work with someone you sleep with._

The result was that their affair had cooled down. They had met twice in all this time, and both times it had felt strange and wrong. "You have to give me some room," he had told Red. "Everyone who needs to know, knows now that Reddington isn't a phantom but that he really does exist, that there's some deal going on and that there is a special interest in Liz. It's time to wait for the next move instead of getting us all killed. It isn't worth it."

It really wasn't worth it, especially because Red's "I know more about you than you think" game he was playing with Liz had only one result; she was frustrated, confused, and tired because she couldn't figure out what he might know and what he might be after.

So, Red had backed off, pretending to be busy with his "business." It had given Liz some time and room to become a part of the team at the Post Office, to settle down and to breathe.

They had begun the mission in September and now it was almost Christmas. Everyone seemed more relaxed and friendly. For Don it was the opportunity to loosen up, make her feel comfortable, be nice to her, instead of being forced to push the strict, dutiful agent in front she obviously didn't like that much. Finally, he got what he had wanted-the invitation for the meeting tonight.

"Why don't you simply ask her out?" Red had asked him.

"It's against the rules," Don had explained to him. "We are not just having an affair, it's a game. _She_ has to arrange the meeting, that's part of the game. That's why the idea of me being her supervisor has always been a bad one."

But tonight Liz had definitely had the way back to herself; Don knew it right away when he entered the fancy restaurant. It was known as a meeting place for couples and singles looking for company. It was a high class establishment totally bereft of the sleaziness that some places where known for. It was a large room with many small tables for only one or two people. Many candles created a romantic atmosphere and warm lighting, and in the lounge a pianist was playing gentle melodies to entertain the hopeful lonesome who were waiting for company.

When Don sat down at the table Liz had reserved for him, her eyes met his and he knew it was going to be a good night. She sat diagonally opposite of him at another table, pretending most of the time she wasn't looking at him. She was wearing an elegant, black, armless dress, black tights or hold-up stockings, and high heels. Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she glanced at Don. She was a vision of temptation, and he wouldn't have needed any foreplay.

But tonight it was her game, and he played along. The peeks during the appetizer lead to an open flirtation during the entree. Finally, Liz showed him that she was wearing stockings with a garter belt under her dress, without panties.

It was Don's signal to get up and go over to her table. "May I invite you to a dessert?"

Liz looked up to him, right in his blue-green eyes. Strangely, she had never really noticed them before. _They are unusual and beautiful._ "I would love a dessert."

"Strawberry mousse with cream on top? Vanilla ice cream with hot fruits? Tiramisu with double bottom?" He could have taken her here and now, but he forced himself to be patient.

"Yeah," she groaned and swayed in her seat. The sound of his deep, male voice lowered to a soft whisper sent an impassionate shiver through her body. "All of it. But I think, I'll have the ice cream."

"Won't it cool you down?" He smiled whimsically and sat down opposite her, before signaling the waiter to come to their table and ordering the ice cream.

"Maybe some cooling down would do me good." She had asked him not to wear a suit and tie. He looked too aloof in it, like a different person, not like the man she had known before she started working with him. Now he was wearing black trousers, a t-shirt with the emblem of some metal band and a black leather jacket. Not really the right clothes for a restaurant like this one, but she liked the outfit, and when he was standing she couldn't take her eyes off the brown belt. Fantasies of what he might do with this belt flashed through her mind.

"Yes, you look-hot," he teased her.

"Well, it's hot in here," Liz claimed and looked at him with misty-eyes while she fanned herself.

"You're not wearing much." Don caressed her knees under the table, and she opened her legs impatiently, but he just smiled, refusing to fulfill her wishes immediately. Instead, his finger stroked slowly along her inner thighs to the end of the stockings, only to return to her knees and start the game all over again. He enjoyed her impassionate shivers and her begging looks, but he wouldn't give in.

 _He's the only man who's able to play this game_ , Liz thought once again, aroused to the core as they ate their ice cream, looking into each other's eyes. She almost couldn't stand it, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

 _I missed him_ , she realized. The past weeks she had dealt with someone else. He did his best to be friendly to her, but at work he was an experienced field agent, used to commanding his team, to dealing with bad guys-extremely devious bad guys-, and used to deciding on the final call. _I shouldn't work with him. It's just bad for us._

She put her hand at his crotch and was satisfied with what she felt, played with the zipper and wondered if he was wearing underwear. Sometimes he didn't.

Invitingly, she moved forward, but Don kept on tantalizing her. Finally, putting on an innocent face he suggested, "How about sharing a cab?"

"I know a place where we could," she paused as if she had to think about the right words, "deepen our acquaintance." It wasn't a long ride to her apartment, but she was looking forward to the moment when the cab driver would adjust the rear-view mirror so he could watch the hot kisses in the back seat.

"Oh, really?" Don signalized the waiter to come to their table, and in the moment the man got to them, his fingers found her secret spot.

Liz bit her lower lip and suppressed a loud groan. _Damn, he's so good!_ She put on a forced smile, while they discussed the bill with the waiter, trying to ignore the secret game under the table.

He released her when he had to reach for his wallet, knowing she had been on her way to the peak, and that breaking it off would increase her longing for him. An extremely hot night was waiting for him.

When he put his hand on her back as he lead her out of the restaurant, she felt as if it would burn her. She would have had sex with him on the toilet, in the backyard or on the buffet, she wouldn't have cared. Of course, he wouldn't let her, and that's what she loved about him. She expected nothing less from him.

When they were about to leave the restaurant a gentleman in his sixties-or maybe he was even older, but looked younger-in an elegant grey suit, leaning at the bar in the lounge, greeted them as if he knew them.

 _Now he has taken the bait_ , Don thought and ignored the man, pretending he didn't recognize him. _The game is at a new stage._

"Who is that?" Liz whispered and tried to remember where she had seen the man's face before. "Isn't that Something-Vincent, the boss of that pharmaceutical project of the government?"

Don thought for a moment. The wrong answer and he would give the game away. "Yes," he finally replied and opened the door to the back seat of the cab. "We think he's the reason Reddington came out of the shadows."

She looked at him in surprise. "Why do you think that?"

"Reddington is a whistleblower. He knows a lot of things about secret government missions. Remember, he started his criminal career by leaking confidential papers, and he seemed to have an interest in Vincent." Don put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer when the cab was driving off.

"Is that the link to my parents?" She put her head against his chest and cuddled up to him, feeling safe and secure.

Though he understood her curiosity, he wasn't in the mood for talking right now. He kissed her neck to distract her. "It's possible."

"You know more than you're telling me, right?" Liz looked at him in the half-light of the car. _He's beautiful_ , she noticed as if she saw him for the first time. The next shiver ran through her body, but her mind was still wondering about the man at the restaurant. "You knew that Vincent might be his target."

"I'm not allowed to tell you everything," he apologized. _Please, don't go on asking_ , he begged her in his thought, _not now!_ He stroked her hair back, caressed her cheeks, her neck, then her breasts.

Liz was still thinking about Reddington and Vincent, but she opened her thighs when Don gently touched her knees. "But when my father was a Navy pilot..."

Luckily for Don the cab stopped in front of Liz's house. Impatiently, he gave the money to the driver and got out. As soon as he had helped Liz out of the car he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, putting his hands on her bottom, feeling carefree and enamored.

Liz pushed all thoughts aside and dedicated herself to him. It would be silly to allow Reddington to spoil the night, especially when Don kissed her with this marvelous mixture of desire and tenderness.

"Earlier today I went shopping," she said when he pushed her gently into the house, "meaning there should be something for breakfast. Will you stay overnight?" She had never asked him that before, but suddenly she couldn't think of anything better than spending the whole night with him, falling asleep in his arms and waking up next to him the following morning.

"If that's what you want," he replied without thinking about the consequences. His focus was on something very mundane, and she had to stop him from undressing her in the elevator.

"Wait," she laughed, hurrying up to get out of the elevator and unlock her door. Then, she pulled off her coat and dress, and squeaked in the next second when he picked her up and carried her to her bed.

It didn't take long to push her over the edge and not much longer for him to follow her. Breathing heavily, they lay next to each other on the bed, she still in her underwear and he almost completely dressed.

"I don't get the connection," Liz finally said. "Reddington, Vincent, my parents, and the reason I am of any interest to these two guys."

Inwardly Don sighed. He had hoped she would stop talking about work. "I can't tell you." He really couldn't, not at this stage of the game. The moment Vincent had turned up it had become impossible to change the plan. Now they had to wait and see what would happen next. "Tell me about your adoptive parents. Are they nice? Are you going to spend Christmas with them?"

Liz sat up and took off the bra. _It looks great, but it is uncomfortable as hell._ "Yes, they are nice." She smiled when she thought about the family she grew up with. "And yes, I'm going to spend Christmas with them. I don't like Christmas that much, though." _And I would never tell them about you because they don't understand that an affair can be so much easier than a boyfriend._

"Why not?" He caressed her breasts, feeling at ease with her, but in this moment also lazy and tired.

"It was Christmas when I was given to Foster care," she remembered him. "It always reminds me that there's something wrong with my life. That I don't know who I really am. What about you? What are you going to do on Christmas?"

 _Talking about private things isn't better than talking about work_ , Don thought displeased. "I guess I'm going spend it on my own." He put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

Willingly, she cuddled up in his arms. He was one of those men who was especially interesting and sexy when he was dressed. _Unless he's wearing a suit and tie._ She put her hands under his t-shirt and caressed his skin. "What about your parents?"

 _Bad topic._ Don hovered between sticking to the official story and telling the truth. He didn't feel good lying to her. "They are dead," he finally said.

Liz took the blanket and pulled it over them. "Are you all alone?" She asked softly. "No brothers, sisters, aunts, cousins," she hesitated, but decided to go on, "not even a girlfriend?"

Don smiled. _Here we go._ Unfortunately, the timing was unbelievably bad. "No family, no girlfriend. Not even another affair."

She looked at him in surprise. "I'm your only one?"

"I haven't been with anyone else since we met." He gently caressed her back and kissed her. The feeling of being enamored returned. _Don't fall in love with her!_ He warned himself, but in this moment he didn't care. She felt good in his arms and she tasted great.

"Me neither," she whispered, but she wasn't sure about her feelings. Right at the moment she felt safe and secure and completely at ease with him. She wouldn't have minded lying there forever with her head on his chest and his hands at her back. _But he's my supervisor, and there's Reddington and the task force..._ She didn't like her job, she realized. When she had applied for the job as a profiler at the Washington field office, Liz had pictured a nice, warm, friendly office at headquarters. The Post Office was the complete opposite of that, and she didn't like it. It wasn't the job she had applied for, it wasn't the job she wanted to do. _If I was working at headquarters, I could have a real relationship with him._

"What's up?" She asked, when he gently pushed her aside and sat up.

"You said I should stay overnight," he replied and got undressed. "I guess it's more comfortable without a jacket and all that stuff."

"Could be true," Liz admitted and got rid of the garter belt and the stockings. "When did you parents die?" She asked when he lay down next to her, now completely naked.

 _Don't make me lie to you._ "When I was about 19, 20." He tried to distract her by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. It worked-for about five minutes.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"To your parents?!" It sounded more horrified than he had intended.

It made her laugh. "It's not the brightest idea, is it?" _It really isn't. We would have to pretend that we are a couple and make up some stories about a not existing relationship._

"No." Don hesitated. "It's not that I wouldn't," he broke off and thought about the right words while caressing her body. "It's just not the right time," he finally said.

 _Not the right time to take our relationship to the next stage. Not the right time to think about what we might feel for each other. That damn job!_ She nodded. "I guess, you are right."

 _Don't even think about it_ , Don told himself. _The moment she finds out the whole truth it'll be over anyway. She'll hate me._ "Let's just enjoy the moment," he suggested and kissed her again.

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

The new year was about two weeks old when Liz came home from work in the evening. The moment she entered her apartment and turned on the light, she stopped in the middle of taking off her coat and cringed with a loud gasp.

There was a man in her living room!

He sat on the sofa as if it was his apartment, smiling at her as if he knew her. She had never seen him before, and for a second she thought about shooting him without asking him what he was doing there. But she decided against it. "What the hell are you doing here? Who are you and what do you want?"

He raised his hands demonstratively to show her that he was unarmed. "I thought it was about time to meet. You can call me Tom, and all I want is to talk to you."

Her heart beat slowed down when the shock eased off, instead, Liz felt slight anger. "I'm guessing 'Tom' isn't your real name," she assumed with a cold voice, "and whatever you have to say should be interesting. Otherwise, I don't see any reason not to call the cops or shoot you."

Tom didn't stop smiling. "I bet you are a passionate woman. No wonder he decided on starting an affair with you."

It felt as if a cold hand took hold of her heart. _No!_ Liz narrowed her eyes and stared at him as if she was able to hypnotize him and read his mind. "Who?"

"I had the same order Agent Ressler had," Tom paused to increase the tension, "to cross your path somewhere and become an acquaintance, a good friend, your lover or even more. Unfortunately, he was faster."

 _Don didn't meet me by chance? Well, it's quite a coincidence that he became my supervisor later..._ She carefully moved forward to the armchair opposite him, without letting him out of her sight. "Let me guess, the one who gave you that order was Vincent."

"A good guess. While I was still watching you to find out the best opportunity to meet you, Ressler hit on you at that wine store."

 _To be more precise, I hit on him_ , Liz corrected him in her thoughts. She took a closer look at him. He looked nice, but there was nothing about him that would have caught her attention. "I wouldn't have slept with you anyway."

He grimaced. "I'm hurt. However, it's too late. At least, for crossing your path and inviting you for a coffee or something. Not too late to tell you that your lover and the whole task force is lying to you. The FBI is lying to you, Liz," he stressed. "They are using you. _They_ arranged the deal with Reddington. They probably offered him immunity as long as he gives them the coordinates, but obviously he needs you to find them."

She always had the feeling that there was something wrong with Reddington, his games and the blacklist, but she was horrified to hear it from a stranger in her living room. "The coordinates?"

Tom nodded, implying that she knew what he was talking about. "Of the tank."

"The tank," Liz said as if she knew what he was talking about.

"He wants to find it to widen his empire."

"Ah, yeah. That makes sense." She nodded and hoped he would give her some more information.

"He could still make millions." He leaned back and folded his arms. "Unfortunately, your father, his accomplice, didn't tell him where he dropped the tank."

 _An accomplice? Well, Red said that my parents were criminals._ "He dropped it from his plane." It seemed logical when her father had been a Navy pilot.

"Yes, an F 14 tomcat. He filed a TFOA-report in which he said he couldn't remember where he ' _lost'_ it," Tom said ironically.*)

"TFOA-report?"

"Things Falling off Aircraft."

"You are kidding me." She looked at him in disbelief.

"No, that's what the Navy calls it," he insisted. "It's a gallon external fuel tank, or simply said, it's a cargo pod. For a long time it seemed as if your father had given the coordinates to Reddington, but when he never moved forward, we got suspicious. I mean, he did everything to get the coordinates, he even killed your father, and then-nothing. Later he was looking for someone, a little girl. It caught our attention, and we kept an eye on his activities. That's how we found you." Again, he smiled at her.

"I could have done without you," she retorted snarky. "And now you think that my father gave the coordinates to me somehow." _Maybe it's about something you were wearing or carrying with you_ , she heard Don's voice in her head, and it made her shiver.

Tom nodded. "Or that Reddington wants us to think that you have them."

 _They used me as bait_ , Liz realized. If it had only been Reddington's intention to get these coordinates, the FBI probably wouldn't have known about it. Or Red wasn't as clever as he thought he was, and the FBI was planning to double-cross him. She couldn't think of any reason the FBI would make a deal with Reddington. _Except if_ , it came to her mind, _Vincent is more dangerous than Red, and whatever is in the tank would prove it. It could be worth it to make a deal with a super-criminal to get a super-super-criminal. But why the hell didn't they tell me? Why use me? Why send an agent to start an affair with me?_

She looked at Tom, then glanced around as if she had never seen her own apartment before. _To get in here and look for the coordinates. You are a dead man, Don!_ She thought in sudden anger. But before she could carry through with her threat she had to get rid of her unwanted company. "Well, I guess, it's the second," she said with a cold voice, "because I don't have the coordinates. They asked me, we went through all the possibilities, couldn't find them and they now think that Reddington is just bluffing." _I hope, you burn in hell, Red!_

Tom looked at her carefully. "Or maybe it's you who is bluffing. Did they tell you what the papers are about?"

 _Shit!_ How could she keep playing this game without knowing anything? "They are confidential, and my level is too low to know them."

He laughed out loud. "Good try, Lizzie."

"Don't call me Lizzie, I'm allergic to it. I might consider shooting you."

"You look at lot like your mom, you know?" Tom cocked his head and looked at her.

"Oh, really?" Liz felt angry about the fact that she had no possible way to prove whatever he was telling her.

Again, he laughed. "Yeah, really. But you know that, don't you?"

She decided not to answer. Instead, she sat down at the armchair and folded her arms.

"Reddington is trying to take advantage of his knowledge about the crime your mother committed to widen his empire." Now he was trying to feed her with little bits, testing how much she knew. She had to be careful not to be fooled.

 _Your parents were career criminals,_ she heard Red's voice echoing in her mind. _I know what they did_. She thought about how she could find out what Tom knew without showing him that she had no idea what her parents might have done. "They didn't tell me much about it," she finally said.

"I'm sure you heard about the epidemic at the end of the 1980s when thousands of American people died from an unknown virus." When Liz nodded, he added, "Well, your mother caused it. She was a scientist working for the pharmaceutical department of the government, and her job was to develop antidotes for all kinds of viruses. She had created an antidote for this virus, but she wasn't sure if it was working because it had only been tested on rats. So, she released the virus and caused the epidemic."

 _What?!_ It sounded like a Grimm's fairy tale. Unfortunately, Liz couldn't remember anything about her mother. She had been about three years old when her father left her at the entrance of the hospital. Anyone could tell her anything about her mother, and she couldn't tell them they were lying. A Russian spy, a mad scientist, a bank robber, everything that fit the current story.

"As soon as the antidote was found she took all her notes and tried to find a buyer for a deadly biological weapon," Tom explained. "Vincent tried to stop her. Unfortunately, she got killed, but she was able to give her notes to her husband and Reddington."

 _Does that mean that Vincent killed my mother?_ It didn't make her sympathetic towards him, and the way Tom told her about the death of her mother didn't make her sympathetic towards him, either.

"Reddington was the buyer," Tom went on, pressing his palms together, as if he was going to pray. "He and your father stole some money-a lot of money-and some confidential Navy papers, and wanted to get away. Something went wrong and your father put all the stuff in the tank and dropped it somewhere during his next flight."

 _It must have happen around Christmas 1989_ , Liz thought, _but Reddington didn't go underground before January 1991._ Something was wrong about Tom's story, but, of course, she wasn't able to say which parts.

"Look," Tom said, leaning forward, causing Liz to pull her gun out of the holster. "Wow!" He raised his hands in defense. "This is an offer, not an attack, okay?"

"An offer?" Distrustfully, she raised an eyebrow.

"In case you have the coordinates, you should consider working for us," Tom explained. "We can offer you any job you want. At the Justice Department, with the CIA, even at the White House. The FBI is just using you. The moment they get the coordinates or come to the conclusion that they are better off with Reddington put away in some black site, they'll send you to some dull office at headquarters or to a field office somewhere in Kansas or Montana, and you'll be bored for the rest of your life. They only need you at the moment."

"Who are you with?" She asked. "Or are you just Vincent's dog?"

He laughed, though he sounded insulted. "I'm with the CIA."

"Well, if I worked with the CIA as well, you couldn't have an affair with me," she teased him.

"You are having an affair with Ressler," he reminded her, "and you are both with the FBI."

She nodded. "That's what you think." _Or do they have cameras in here?_ She thought with a sudden shiver. But to her relief she saw a glimpse of uncertainty on Tom's face, maybe just for a second, before he smiled again, although it was forced.

"Don't try to play with us," he warned her. "You aren't clever enough. You will regret it if you help the FBI get through with their dirty games. Reddington is not who they think he is. He's a global player, a fish that's much too big for them. He'll double-cross them, and they will blame you. Then, you'll be done and there will be no one who can help you. Well, we can help you," he stressed. "We can make you famous, Lizzie."

* * *

*) Yeah, I admit it. I stole the basic idea for this story from NCIS, season 1, episode 9. ;)

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	6. Chapter 6

"You lied to me!" Angrily, Liz stormed into her and Don's office and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, so that everyone in the war room cringed. "You bastard!" She stopped in front of Don's desk, her hair in disorder and her cheeks reddening, her eyes seemed to flash fire. "You started an affair with me because you had been told to! You told me bloody stories of coincidences and..."

 _Oh no! Vincent spoke to her. We are at the next level._ Somehow, Don had wished it would have never come, although he wanted to end this mission as soon as possible. Then, he would be able to tell her everything and ask for her forgiveness. He stopped listen, just stared at her- _wow, she's sexy right now!_ -and waited for a moment when Liz had to take a breath. "May I say anything?" He chipped in when she finally paused for a second.

She threw an angry glare at him, but she pressed her lips together.

"Who told you this?" Don asked. "Vincent himself or one of his dogs?"

That he used the same name for "Tom" as she did almost made her smile. Almost. She hesitated, but if she wanted answers she should probably talk to him. "A guy called Tom."

Don reached for a file in a drawer of his desk and showed her two pictures. "This one or that one?"

"This one." Automatically, she pointed at the left picture.

"Jacob Phelps. He's with the CIA and probably Vincent's right hand. What did he tell you and what did he want?"

Her anger eased off a bit. She took a deep breath and repeated the conversation she had had with "Tom" the other day.

"Okay." Don thought about the right approach. He had always feared that moment. And although he had been prepared for it, it felt worse than he had ever imagined. "Yes, I did lie to you about some things." He looked her straight in the eye. "I didn't want to, but I had to. Yes, I was ordered to get in touch with you, but it was up to me in which way. I wasn't asked to start an affair with you. I did it because there was, no, there _is_ ," he stressed, "a sexual attraction, because I like the game and because I like you."

"You like me." Liz looked at him in disbelief, but deep inside she knew that he was telling the truth. "You had to get into my apartment and look for those coordinates!"

"I could have broken in," he replied with a shrug.

 _No, I won't let you get away that easily!_ "Your job was to find out if I knew anything about these coordinates."

"Not primarily," Don contradicted. "We knew that Vincent would try to move on you, and we had to get to you first. To protect you."

"You mean, to use me for your own purposes," she retorted; her eyes still seemed to flash fire.

Don felt uneasy. "Half true," he admitted. "But believe me, it's better to be used by us than by them. The main point was to demonstrate that the FBI is involved."

Liz's hand twitched when she suppressed the impulse to slap him. "You should have told me."

"I wanted to, but the majority of my superiors came to the conclusion that it was better you knew nothing at all," Don apologized. "We didn't know what Vincent would do. It was possible he would just send one of his dogs to offer you something absurd, or he would abduct you, drug you or even torture you. If you had known any of our plans, you would have told him."

Liz had to admit that this was a plausible argument, especially as it seemed as if Vincent had been monitoring her for a long time. "Tell me about Vincent. Who is that guy?" She sat down on the edge of Don's desk, folding her arms.

Luckily, this was the easiest part. Facts, nothing but facts. Nothing he had to lie about. "Officially, he's the president of the pharmaceutical department of the government, but in fact, he's the head of a group that use government institutions and programs for their own well-being. Meaning, they make money-a lot of money-by using contracts, programs, contacts for all kinds of business, illegal business, selling guns to warlords, building pipelines in war zones, making business with our enemies... The businessmen who are involved are only as mighty as this group is," he explained. "The problem is the group itself. They are a bunch of corrupted politicians, members of intelligence services, the military, and various departments. but..."

"You can't prove it," Liz interrupted him.

"No." Don took a pen and drew senseless lines on the paper in front of him. "We might bust the group if we were able to bring Vincent down. We've been monitoring him for decades and couldn't find anything that would have endangered him. There's only one thing we could tie him to, but for this..."

"You need that tank," she cut him off again.

"The documents that are in the tank," he corrected.

"Is any of what Tom told me about my parents true?"

Don unlocked the upper drawer of his desk and took out a file. It had a big seal on it, saying, "Confidential," and a smaller one, saying, "Level 4." He took out a single piece of paper and gave it to her.

The woman in the picture at the top of the page only bore a slight resemblance to her. Same hair color, same mouth, not much more. A serious looking woman. "Dr. Josephine Edwardson," she read.

"So much for 'you look a lot like your mom'," Don remarked ironically. "You look more like your father, I think." He gave her a second piece of paper with a picture of Lieutenant Commander Stephen Edwardson, a friendly looking guy with the same blue eyes as hers.

"You know what really makes me angry? You knew that I didn't know who I really am, who my biological parents are, that this is a problem for me, and you had all the answers in your desk all the time, just one step away from me." She slapped his arm, hard.

He didn't blink, although it hurt. He felt he deserved it. "I would have told you, but I wasn't allowed to."

"I'm definitely not cleared for level 4," Liz pointed at the file, "but this is **my** damn life!"

"Try to understand me," he begged her, feeling choked by the guilt. "It's a constant moral conflict. Telling you the truth because I feel you deserve to know contradicts following clear, unambiguous orders. Only a very few people know about this operation, and they are all higher ranking than I. Most of them were suspicious about me and thought I shouldn't be part of it. On the other hand, I know a crucial detail and can be useful in certain situations. That's why I'm in. What kind of agent am I if I'm not able to keep my mouth shut?"

Liz grimaced, half angry, half understanding. "A bad one." _He's only 33_ , she thought, _he's probably the lowest ranking member in this operation._

They looked at each other for a moment. Her anger eased off, while he felt even worse.

"Truth is that your mother created the virus and the antidote," Don finally said. "A lie is that she released the virus. Vincent did. **He** wanted to test if the antidote was really working. He ordered her to test the virus on human beings. She refused, so he did it himself."

"How do you know that when obviously only the documents you are looking for are able to prove that?" She asked distrustfully.

"A reliable informant told one of my superiors, but he died, and meanwhile, without the documents, his testimony is worthless," he replied without hesitation. "Truth is that she gave all her notes and copies, which prove that Vincent released the virus, to her husband. Truth is also that she was killed-by the virus. A lie is that your father had any contact with Reddington, or that your mother wanted to sell the virus as a biological weapon-Vincent was the one who wanted to do that."

"Vincent didn't kill her?" She asked.

Don's face took on a contemplative look. "In fact, he killed her. He killed all these people who died of the virus. But he didn't shoot her or something like that."

"And my father and Reddington never met?"

"No," he said. "Both were with the Navy, but Reddington was with the ONI and your father was a pilot. It's true that your father dropped the tank to hide the notes and copies," Don didn't look up and instead went on playing with the pen, "but he didn't do it because he wanted to steal them or sell them."

"He wanted to hide them from Vincent." She felt relieved that her parents obviously didn't commit any crimes.

"I guess, he wasn't sure whom to trust," Don explained. Sarcastically, he added, "Your mom was working with the government. When you feel you can't trust your own government you are in serious trouble. Reddington had nothing to do with it," he went on, "and he didn't kill your father, the CIA did, or to be precisely Vincent's helpers, dogs like Jacob Phelps, killed him. They caught him, brought him to a black site, tortured him and went too far, so he died from his injuries. He didn't tell them the coordinates, but he indicated that the fire in which he and his little daughter supposedly died in had been a fake. Vincent started looking for you, but it took him years to find you."

The fire of which she had a faint memory. Probably it was her family home that had been burnt down. She cocked her head and looked at Don in distrust. "And how do you know that?"

"One of the dogs wasn't faithful enough." He smiled ironically and gave her another piece of paper from the file. "We were watching Vincent, and when he found you, we decided to move on you."

Liz didn't read the paper properly, but she could see that it was the testimony of a former CIA agent. "And how did you get Reddington to play a role in this," she thought about the right words, "ridiculous play?"

Don shrugged. "Immunity. He's getting old. He would like to spend his retirement at a house on the sea instead of at a black site or on the run. I guess he also has a great interest in seeing Vincent's empire crumble. He never liked him, and he probably has someone who will take over his own empire. For his successors, it would be easier to do business without Vincent. And Vincent doesn't want that, of course, because it would make Red and his people the biggest super-criminals that ever existed." _That sounds as if we are in a bad movie_ , he groaned inwardly to himself.

There was another moment of silence.

"Can you take off that bloody tie?" Liz stared at it. "It makes me nervous. When you are wearing it, it feels as if I'm dealing with a stranger. I don't even want to strangle you with that thing."

"I could cuff your hands with it," he suggested, loosening the knot, then took the tie off, opened the first three buttons of his shirt, rolled up his sleeves.

Liz looked squarely into his eyes and was surprised to read desire in them. "You are unbelievable! I'm mad at you, and you lust for me." She slapped him again, this time even harder.

Again, he didn't back off, ignored the pain. And no, he couldn't deny that he was attracted to her, no matter how guilty he might feel. "You are very sexy when you are mad," he said in a low voice.

She didn't know what to think or feel. He was attractive at that moment, but she also still felt angry. "Was any of what you told me about yourself true? Not that you've told much about yourself, but was any of it true?"

Now, this was the most difficult part. He moved closer to her, so he sat opposite her, put his hand at her thighs. "As I told you, I'm in an awkward moral conflict," he said honestly. "I'm an agent on a mission. There are things I can't tell you. I _really_ can't," he stressed. "But you have to believe me when I say that I'm not on any mission when I'm with you. I don't meet with you or sleep with you because anyone told me to. I don't do it to push you to do or tell me something. I do it because I want to."

Again, she could feel that he was telling the truth, and she could understand the conflict he was in. "But was any of it true?" She insisted.

For a moment Don avoided her look. Finally, he got up and took his personal file from one of the cabinets. "I can't tell you anything else aside from my official report." He showed her the page with the family status. "Both parents are deceased, no siblings, no other family." _And with this I already told you more than I should._ "Definitely true is that you are my only one. No girlfriend, no other affairs or even a wife and kids."

"So, the question is if this file is telling the truth," she realized, and glanced around at the file cabinets. "If any of these files are real."

Don put the file aside and sighed. He stood right in front of her now. Gently, he caressed her arms. He didn't care if anyone in the war room might watch them through the window. The old fear of losing someone, being left, getting lost, returned. _I shouldn't like her this much_ , he told himself, but he knew he couldn't help it, and he didn't want to lose her. "If I had it my way, things would be different by now. I really don't want it this way. It just happened, you know?" He looked at her, wishing she would believe him. "When we met at that store, I had no plan on how to get in touch with you. It just happened the way it did, and it isn't the agent who is attracted to you."

Liz tried to read his facial expression. _Is he in love with me?_ She wondered. At least, he really seemed to like her. _I like him too_ , she admitted to herself. "Strangely enough I always had the feeling that I'm dealing with two completely different men. I guess, that's why I hate those suits and ties. The agent is a stranger to me, the man I meet with is completely different. But who's the real Donald Ressler?"

He licked his lower lip to ease the tension. "Both, I guess, somehow. The difference you feel is probably that the agent isn't honest with you and feels ashamed of it at the same time."

"Is any of what you've just told me, about my parents, Vincent, Reddington true?" She looked deep into his eyes, as if she could read the truth in it.

"Most of it," he answered honestly.

"So, there's still something you're not telling me?"

No way out, but he didn't want to avoid her. "Yes. I'm not allowed to tell you, and I really can't ignore this order."

Liz nodded, now feeling as sad as he looked. "You were right. It's just not the right time."

The fear of losing her increased. "Do you believe me that I'm not having this affair with you because I'm on a mission?"

She saw that it was important for him to know. "I do. But I'm not sure what to make from it right now. I guess I have to sort it out for a while." She got up and was standing right in front of him now. There wasn't even room for a hand between them. Her body reacted to his, and for a second she was about to put her head against his, to inhale his lovely smell of summer and feel safe in his arms. _I can't go on like this,_ she decided. _I have to find out what is really going on._ "Is it okay if I take a few days off? I need to be alone and think about all this."

Inwardly Don sighed because he knew she was going to do exactly what he needed her to do. _You are manipulating her, and you should be ashamed of it_ , he told himself. He felt ashamed of it, but he forced himself to smile and nodded.

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	7. Chapter 7

"Are Vincent's guys here, too?" Red asked, leaning back in the front passenger's seat.

"The white van at the end of the lane." Don pointed at it, not letting Liz out of his sight as he watched her through the windshield of their car. She was just entering a family home in a residential suburb of Lincoln, Nebraska. It was the house she had grown up in with her adoptive family. "Hasn't the house been searched?"

"Of course," Red replied. "They found the things she had with her when she was found at the entrance of the hospital, but they couldn't discover anything special. Probably it's something only she can link, something her father told her she should take good care of."

"What if he didn't give the coordinates to her?"

"Don't be so pessimistic. We..."

"Down!" Don cut him off when one of the guys got out of the white van. They went down in a hurry, and Don hit his elbow on the driver's door. "Fuck!"

"Watch your language," Red whispered.

"You are a criminal," Don retorted in a low voice, rubbing his elbow, "you shouldn't mind scatology."

"Being a criminal doesn't turn me into an idiot and use bad language." Red tried to find a comfortable position. "What is he doing?"

Don peered through the window, using field glasses. "Smoking a cigarette."

"Anyone we know?"

"Jacob Phelps."

They waited in silence until "Tom" finally got back into the van.

"Do you think they are really that stupid to think we wouldn't follow her, too?" Don wondered when they settled back in their seats.

"Maybe, maybe not. They have no choice," Red said. "They have to get the documents before we do and destroy them, no matter what it might cost. They have to risk getting caught."

They watched the house and the neighborhood for a while, before Red finally said, "That house over there reminds me of a house I often passed by in my childhood." He pointed at a shabby, formerly white house surrounded by a big, overgrown garden. "We were fascinated by it because the adults were always whispering about it. Something was wrong with it. We assumed that there had to be a big secret behind it. Each time we thought of something new: someone had been murdered there, a criminal hid there, or ghosts were living there, and each ghost story was different from the one before."

 _That's typical of him_ , Don thought with an inward groan. _We are cramped in a surveillance car, and he tells a story!_

"When we got older we supposed it might be a brothel," Red went on, "because men took it easier than women. And, of course, it was the time when we got interested in everything sexual. We didn't know anything about sex," he wandered from the subject, "we couldn't get a hold of magazines or even films that easily. We had been told some details, but never got the whole picture. Sex was something for adults only, and they wouldn't talk about it. From today's point of view it seems absurd that in the 1950s and 1960s, you were considered a pervert if you wanted more than vanilla sex." Then, he became aware that he had got too far away from the central theme. "What did I start with?"

"The house," Don reminded him.

"Oh, yes! Each time I passed that house I tried to imagine what a brothel might look from the inside. Of course, I had never been to one, and there was no way to find out. Not at that age. But for some reason I thought it had to look like a luxurious temple."

"Why?" Don asked politely, when Red didn't go on.

"From the outside it was an unimpressive house," Red explained, "and I thought how exciting it would be if it was completely different on the inside because you wouldn't expect it. The other point was that I somewhere picked up the term 'temple of lust,' and I was convinced that a temple couldn't be something ordinary. I visualized gold, marble statues, thick oriental carpets, a wide entrance hall..."

"...and half naked, beautiful women," Don completed the sentence.

"Well, just naked," Red admitted, "in an environment like that they don't need to wear anything."

"Have you ever found out what was special about the house?" Don tried to end the story. It felt strange to discuss sexual subjects with Red.

"Yes, the woman who lived there had cheated on her husband." This explanation still disappointed Red. "In matters of the morality of that time it was unbelievably outrageous, but I couldn't understand the fuss about it. The moral of the story might be that the truth can be boring, or that your imagination is often better than the reality."

* * *

Several hours and some stories later, Liz left the house and took a cab back to the airport where she booked a flight back to D.C. The following morning she went to the Navy Yard and obviously looked something up, before she drove to Springfield, Virginia.

"The old family home," Don said in surprise when he realized where she was heading to. "Was there anything left after her father burnt the place down?"

"No," Red replied, "but, as I told you, she might be able to remember a link."

Don followed the GPS he had placed in Liz's car and the white van of Vincent's men that was following her. At the moment she wasn't in danger because Don was sure they were hoping that Liz was leading them right to the tank. Nevertheless, Don felt bad. It simply didn't feel right, even if she was aware that someone might be following her and that she was doing exactly what she was supposed to do. **He** had made her do it, instead of telling her the truth and working together with her. The fact that he was protecting her right now didn't make it any better.

Liz stopped in front of a newer family home in a residential suburb, the old address of her parents. Of course, there was nothing that reminded of the fire more than 25 years ago.

She seemed to consider her options before finally driving down the lane and parking the car at the end of the road. There, she got out and walked down a small path behind the houses.

Don passed the white van and stopped the car behind a bend, so Vincent's men couldn't see him but he could watch Liz through field glasses. "It must be something at the back of the garden," he informed Red.

"An old hiding place she used as a child," Red assumed with a smile. "Perhaps, her father gave her one of her toys at that place. And in front of the hospital he told her that she should take good care of the toy because it would always remind her of the hiding place."

"But the garden was searched," Don objected.

"I don't think it's easy to find."

"Seems you are right," Don said when Liz walked back to her car faster than she had on her way to the garden.

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	8. Chapter 8

In the late afternoon, the strange convoy arrived at a park in Maryland-Liz in the lead, followed by the white van that was followed by Don and Red who were followed by a SWAT team. Somewhere on the way the white van had stopped, and Vincent had gotten in. It seemed as if the trap that they had laid out for him would work.

A problem was that there was only a GPS in Liz's car. When she got out and started walking into the woods they could only follow her by following Vincent and his men. They couldn't get too close, otherwise, they might have been seen or heard. This circumstance gave rise to the problem that they might be too late if Vincent planned to burn the documents right away-which he probably would.

It made Don nervous. He had to protect Liz, whom he couldn't see at all most of the time, he had to save the documents, and he had to coordinate the SWAT team behind them. To make it worse there weren't many hours left until sunset.

Red, who was getting tired, made him even more nervous. _He's not in the condition to walk miles through the woods_ , he thought as they went uphill and he could hear Red panting at his back.

"Can you breathe more quietly?"

"If I stop breathing, I'll drop dead," Red muttered.

"You are as sporty as a walrus on dry land. You even sound like one."

"It has never been one of my aims in life to run a marathon," Red retorted, slightly insulted. _Walrus on dry land!_ A second later, he laughed inwardly at himself. _It probably hits the mark._

"I told you to exercise more," Don said while climbing a steep hill, trying not to let Vincent out of his sight.

"I don't exercise at all," Red groaned, "and you won't make me. Never!"

"You are a criminal on the run," Don teased him, "if you ever have to run away from me, you won't get far." He reached out, and Red gratefully took his hand to get some help up the last meters of the hill.

Luckily for Red the path went downhill now, then flat for a while before the next hill was waiting for them.

"What do you think? How much longer is it?"

 _He sounds like a grumpy child._ In his mind, Don imitated the voice of a bored, impatient child in the backseat of a car, _Are we there yet?_ "You are not asking me for a rest, are you?"

"No, but..."

"Shhhh!" Don stopped and tried to see what was going on in front of him. "I think we are there."

"Great!" Red used the little rest to catch his breath.

They moved forward very slowly and carefully now, until they reached a little clearing. Liz was searching for something among the leaves on the ground.

Don called Red's attention to Vincent and his men at the other side of the clearing, while they took cover behind thick bushes. His heart was beating fast, adrenaline was rushing through his veins. The plan was going into its final phase. _I hope it'll work!_

It took a while, but finally Liz brushed leaves aside and they all could see the tank; a long, rusty cargo pot, half sunk in the ground.

Vincent didn't wait long. As soon as Liz had opened the hatch in the tank, he stepped out of the wood and joined her, followed by his three "dogs". "Now we are finally working together," he said, smiling at her.

Although Liz had almost been sure that someone would follow her-Vincent or the FBI or even both (at the moment she hoped for both)-she cringed. "I'm not sure about that," she said quickly, "your offer was too vague."

"We could negotiate," he paused, "or shoot you right here. The tank looks like a cozy coffin, doesn't it?"

She cocked her head, trying not to show him how nervous she was and that her pulse was rushing. "You would look great in it, too."

He just smiled at her fatherly. "You are alone, we are four," he pointed out.

When he raised his hand in which he was holding something that looked like an incendiary device, Don nodded to Red. It was the right moment to step in.

Don took a deep breath before he jumped up and ran across the clearing, using the element of surprise to place himself in front of the open hatch of the tank and pointing his gun at Vincent's head. He knew he was on his own for a moment. Red was slower than he was, and the SWAT team was still moving up the hill, but he had to prevent loss of the documents by all means.

"I guess I'm not alone," Liz remarked, feeling relieved to see Don.

Vincent was still smiling- _they probably think that they look less scary when they smile all the time_ , she thought-but his smile was forced now. He seemed to consider throwing the incendiary device at Don in the hope he might fall backwards, but the success was doubtful, and Liz was pointing her gun at him as well. In the moment he threw it, she would shoot him.

His smile froze in a grimace when he spotted someone behind Liz, and she turned her head slightly. _Why did Red come here with Don?_ During the time they had caught the criminals of Red's blacklist she had come to the conclusion that Don and Red didn't like each other that much. They ignored each other or exchanged trenchant remarks. Turning up here together was strange.

Tom stepped forward and whispered something in Vincent's ear. Vincent nodded, and Tom turned to Liz-of course, with a smile, second to none, overconfident. She felt the sudden urge to wipe it off his face by hitting him hard.

"I guess, you think that your FBI-lover and your informant didn't come alone," Tom said, "that there are more agents hiding in the bushes. Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that. I rather assume that they fooled the FBI-including you-and have been working together the whole time. You could still work for us. We kill them, take the documents, get away and you could be whatever you want to be."

Although Liz was confused about the fact that Don and Red had turned up together, she would, of course, never consider killing Don. "Why should they team up?"

"Because of _this_." Tom turned and pointed his gun at Don, aiming at his head.

"Don't!" Liz shouted and made to step forward, but before she could do anything else, Red stepped in front of Don, shielding him with his own body, raising his hands demonstratively to show that he had put his gun away.

"He just wants to demonstrate that Donald is under my protection," he said calmly. He turned to Tom, "Well, go ahead. You know what will happen: you shoot me, Donald or one of the snipers-because you are wrong, we didn't come alone-shoots you, we are both dead and no one is happy."

Tom didn't stop smiling at Liz. "Are you wondering why Raymond Reddington of all people in the world is protecting an FBI agent?"

Of course she was, but like hell she wouldn't tell him. She pressed her lips together.

"You might think he's on his payroll," Tom went on, "but it's worse-he's his son."

 _What?!_ Liz had difficulty not showing her surprise. _I guess that's the one big thing he couldn't tell me. The reason his service record is faked. The reason he lied about who he was spending Christmas with. And maybe they are really working together right now, fooling everyone..._ She was ashamed of her thoughts a second later when she spotted something shining behind one of the bushes-the gun of a sniper.

Tom seemed to see it too because he nodded to Vincent and the other two "dogs" and put his gun down, dropped it, and raised his hands, putting them behind his head.

A minute later the place was crowded by FBI agents. The trap had snapped shut. Although he should be happy, Don had never felt worse in his life. He had known he had to tell her one day, but that Tom knew about his relation to Red made things worse. First, it wasn't him who had put it right. Second, it could mean they had a mole in their lines; only very few people knew that Red was his father. Third, it might make it difficult to send Vincent behind bars. Everything they had worked for was in jeopardy-before they even knew if the documents were really in the tank.

He looked apologetically at Liz, but she turned away and started a conversation with one of the other agents. With a sigh he knelt in front of the tank to check what was inside.

Luckily, the airtight tank had preserved everything in perfect condition. The bundle with the notes and copies looked as if it had been put there a week ago. There were some more papers, and a bag that contained a lot of money.

Don raised an eyebrow when he showed it to Red. "Where did Edwardson get all that money from?"

Red was surprised too. "There was a robbery on a Navy ship at that time," he remembered after thinking about it for a while, "and the money was never found, but I would have never considered him being involved." He took the bunch of documents and looked through them, smiling, before he turned to Cooper who had arrived whilst he was perusing.

Liz watched them from a distance. _They really must have a special deal with him._ She couldn't understand it. _Does Cooper or anyone of the team know that Red is Don's father? How can Vincent know that? What kind of game are they really playing?_

When Don came towards her, carrying the bag with the money, she stopped him. "Does Cooper know who you really are?"

He looked at her angry face, and deep inside he knew she wouldn't forgive him. He was going to lose her, and it hurt. _Damn it, I really do like her. No_ , he corrected himself, _worse, I'm in love with her._ It was the worst moment to realize it. "No. And I have no idea how Vincent found out that we are related."

"Related!" Liz laughed scornfully. "He's your father! So, is there a deal inside the deal? Or did you two arrange all this on your own?" She stood with her hands on her hips; she had never felt more distrustful and furious in her life. She wasn't even mad at him, she was angry that the whole story was so complicated that she probably would never figure out who was right and who was wrong. "It's probably not a coincidence that you are the case agent!"

"No, it's not," Don admitted, feeling as if he was dying inside, "but I still can't tell you why. Not before the mission is complete. It'll be finished when Vincent is sent to prison and the group is busted."

"Meaning there's still something you are not telling me," she remarked sharply. "I even understand it. I really do. That Reddington is your father is really something you can't tell anyone." She noticed that he looked sad, and her anger eased off. _The worst thing is that I really like him._ The thought made her sad too, but she knew she couldn't get over it that easily.

"You know, I might forgive you all the lies and manipulations, but I don't know how I will ever trust you again. I could never trust him," she pointed at Red who was turning his back to them, "and I can't imagine being with his son!"

Don bit his lower lip, not knowing what to say. Everything that came to his mind was useless because it wouldn't change anything. There was only one thing he could have said-if he had been allowed to. But he wasn't.

"You know what?" Liz made a spontaneous decision. Only a few hours later she would ask herself why the hell she had done that. She would be appalled by herself, would call herself a fool and wouldn't believe that she was able to do something so stupid. But in that moment she was just following a sudden instinct without thinking. "You have the documents you wanted, I'll take the money and do what I've always wanted to do-travel around the world and never come back." Before he could react, she took the bag from his hands, turned and walked towards the wood.

For a few seconds Don was unable to move, and his mind was completely blank, but then he woke up from his numbness. "Liz!" He hurried after her, but stopped when she turned and pointed her gun at him.

"Leave me alone, or I'll be the one who shoots you!" She hurried to reach the wood and disappeared between the trees and into the cumulating darkness.

Don starred at the woods, stunned. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned. "She's gone. And the next time we meet I'll have to arrest her!" He felt hurt, upset, as if he was torn into pieces. He didn't know what to think or feel.

"On what cause?" Red asked, looking at the woods.

"She took the money!" Don couldn't believe that she really stole the money. _She must have lost her mind!_ And he couldn't believe that he had lost her because his tongue was tied. But, of course, there was no way to sell his own father out. It was a situation without any satisfying solution.

Red raised an eyebrow. "What money?"

"The money in..."

"I haven't seen any money," Red cut him off, putting on an innocent face. "Was there any money in the tank?"

* * *

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Finally back home!_ Three days later Red relaxed on his sofa, stretching out his legs on the armchair opposite him. During the mission he had missed their house.

They had never moved, although they had talked about it now and then. But in the end neither of them wanted to give it up, though it was nothing special. A small, old house in Maryland, in a district with many other houses just like this one. A big kitchen and an even bigger living room downstairs, two bedrooms and a small office upstairs.

Red liked the wooden panels, the creaking floorboards, the way the evening sun was pouring through the doors that lead to the patio, the view into the little garden with the old trees, and the comfortable furniture he had once bought second hand. He loved to sit here and have a drink while watching the sunset.

"Would you like a sandwich or anything else?" Don came into the room, barefoot, just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

"No, thank you." Red turned his head and looked at him. "You look tired and sad. Maybe you should go to bed."

 _Like I was ten years old_ , Don thought, but it made him smile. And yes, he was tired. He hadn't been able to sleep properly the last several nights. Too many thoughts, too much guilt, too much pain.

"Come over here," Red said softly, sounding tired himself.

Don hesitated, but then he told himself that no one would ever know, and he lay down on the sofa, leaning his head against his father's chest.

Red put an arm around him and caressed Donald's hair. There was a moment of silence before he said, "You know, when I was born my father bought an Alfa Romeo Guiletta as if he wanted to reward himself that he had fathered a son." He laughed ironically because it seemed archaic and ridiculous. "He was more proud of the car than of me, and, I'm afraid, he loved it much more than me," he added in a bitter tone. "Whenever he had some time to spare he would wash it, repair it, or go for a drive. No one else was allowed to touch it, let alone drive it. I think it was his only pleasure." He pictured his draconic, serious father in his memory. His mouth had always been a small line, and one could tell what kind of mood he was in-neutral, bad, or extremely bad-from how small the line was. Red had never seen him smile.

"When he died he passed the car on to me, but he wrote in his last will that I wasn't allowed to drive it until I had fathered a son. At that time I didn't know that I had already done that-it was about a year before you and I met-and sold the car without having sat in it once." He still sounded defiant. "After all the time he had kept me away from it I didn't want it anymore."

"Does the story have a punch line?" Don asked, half asleep.

"Yes. Instead of passing the car on to me, I wished he had told me, or at least shown me, that he liked me. Just one time." His voice had a sound of longing to it. "Of course, it wasn't usual for this generation to show emotions, to mollycoddle kids, especially boys. That's how they put it. I wouldn't agree. A child should know that it is wanted and loved. It has nothing to do with pampering it. I mean that's what people live for, don't they? To find someone who likes them, who makes them feel good." He kissed his son's forehead. "I love you, Donald, I'm proud of you, and I'm awfully sorry that Liz is gone. I wish things could have been different by now."

Hastily, Don pushed every thought of Liz aside; the pain of having lost her was too fresh. "You would have died for me." Red's reaction of placing himself in front of him had taken him by surprise. _I should know better. The constant distrust in people, even in my own father, is like a bad habit._

"I would do everything for you," Red stressed, "even die." He paused before he asked, "Would you try if she came back?"

"What?"

"Liz. If she came back, would you try a committed relationship?"

"What makes you think it would be different compared to any other girl before her?" Don asked sardonically.

"Because it is. You like her. It wasn't just sex. Maybe it's simply the right time to try. You can't shy away from it forever just because your mom left you." It was the first time ever Red addressed the problem directly. He anticipated an objection, but Don just sighed. "Yeah, maybe I would try. But I don't think she's coming back."

 _Probably not._ Red decided on not saying it aloud. "Grab a blanket. You'll get cold in case you fall asleep."

Don mumbled something incomprehensible, but pulled the blanket over his body. It didn't take long before Red noticed that he had fallen asleep. He took another sip of Scotch and watched the last sunbeam flickering deep red through the garden, while his mind wandered back about 25 years ago.

* * *

When Red answered the door he faced a ghost from the past, a woman he had had an affair with about seven years ago while on leave from the Naval Academy. Four hot days in a small town on the sea. Outside it had been windy, rainy, and cold; an unfriendly, grey sea splashed against the shore, while they met in this small, but cozy room of his bed and breakfast.

They had met at the rock festival which the town was famous for and the reason Red wanted to spend a few days there. She was one of those women one notices the moment they enter a room-or, in this case, a wet meadow-because of their appearance, their inner light, their specialness. In Nicole's case her specialness was her fragility and tenderness. She looked like a fairy from an ancient tale with her delicate face, graceful build, long, white-blond hair, and her big, dark-blue, longing eyes. Not even dirty rubber boots and the rain coat could disturb this picture.

She had had many admirers, and she talked to some guys, but in the end she chose him-the boring guy, too thin, with too blond hair to be masculine, too shy to be macho, and not cool enough to be one of the dangerous looking rock fans at the festival. *)

Their affair had ended when he went back to the academy, and he had never heard of her again, and, of course, he didn't expect her today. But there she was, at his door, still looking like a fairy, beautiful and delicate. Next to her sat a suitcase and two bags-and a blond boy who might be six or seven years old.

"Nicole!" All his surprise in one word, including the questions, _what are you doing here? What do you want?_ And, _who the hell is this?_

"You obviously remember me." She didn't smile. She looked tired, concerned, almost hounded, and in a hurry.

Red noticed the cab in the street. Obviously, it was waiting for her. "Of course, I remember you."

"Well," Nicole glanced at her watch, "then you will remember that I told you I was on the pill. To cut a long story short-I lied. This is your son", she pointed at the boy who was patiently and silently waiting next to her, "and you have to take him."

"What?!" He didn't know what to say, ask, do, or even think. His brain seemed blank. He looked at the boy who dared to glance at him as well, but looked away quickly, biting his lower lip. _A mixture of Nicole and Uncle Henry_ , crossed Red's mind.

"It's urgent and it's necessary," Nicole said and handed him a bunch of papers. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't have to. You really have to."

 _Conveyance of custody_ , Red read at the top of the first paper. "But you can't do this without asking me," he objected, speaking out loud every thought that was coming to his mind now. "You should have told me before. At some point before. You should have asked if there's any room, other children, a jealous wife maybe, time, money. You can't simply come here and decide that he's staying with me. For how long? And why the hell did you lie to me?"

"I needed to get pregnant to get the man I wanted," she answered the last question first. "That wasn't you. Do you remember Eddie, the racer? The guy at the festival every girl wanted? Well, I got him because I told him the baby was his. The problem is he's never liked him," she pointed at the boy again, "and it's getting worse. So, he has to go."

Red's feelings changed from surprise and confusion to anger at the man and empathy with the boy. "You have to choose between this egocentric macho-ass," (he _did_ remember Eddie), "and your son, and you decide against your child?!"

Now she looked hounded again. "It's better for him. Believe me." Before Red could think of any other objections, she patted the boy's head. "I've got to go. Be a good boy, will you?" She didn't wait for any reaction, but turned and walked towards the waiting cab.

"Nicole!" Now this one word expressed all his anger and displeasure. Red followed her in a hurry. "You can't simply turn up here, drop your child at my doorstep, and then disappear!"

She just shrugged, although she didn't look indifferent; she looked unhappy. "He's also your child. I've him six and a half years, now it's your turn."

"You didn't ask me," he retorted sharply. Then he lowered his voice, remembering the boy at the door. "Not when you lied about being on the pill and not when you decided he should live with me. I mean, that's what you expect of me, don't you? That he's staying with me. Permanently, right?"

"He's a nice boy," she said as if it was an answer. "You will get along." She didn't look at him when she got into the cab. She also avoided looking at the boy.

"Nicole!" But the door was closed firmly, and the cab drove off. Red stood in the driveway, watching the car disappear, stunned.

Then, he remembered the boy. _It must be horrible for him_ , he realized. _His mom just drove off in a cab, leaving him behind with a man he has never seen in his entire life, in a town he has never been in before, without any friends, family, or acquaintances. It must be terrifying._

Red took a deep breath, put on a smile and turned around. The boy, who had obviously been watching him before, looked away immediately. Red went over to him and knelt down on the upper step to face him. "Do you know who I am?" He spoke in a soft, gentle voice.

The boy looked at him with big blue eyes. No, they were green. No, half blue and half green. Red tried to figure out where the blue ended and where the green began, but it was difficult to say. With the half blond, half reddish hair the boy was something like a chameleon. _Or a unicorn. My unicorn._ A first glimpse of liking was floating through his heart.

The boy's look was a mixture of fear, deep pain that pierced right through Red, distrust, and tears he didn't dare to cry. _How could she do this to you?_ Red's heart filled with empathy and he liked the boy even more.

"My real dad?" It was more a question than a statement. Obviously, Nicole hadn't told him much more than Red.

"I think so. I didn't know you exist," Red apologized, "otherwise, we would have met earlier."

A careful nod confirmed that Nicole had never spoken about him before. "She said on the plane that she lied to," he paused before he added, "Eddie, and that it was you who made me."

The way he said it sounded as if Red had baked bread or shaped a sculpture or done anything else rather trivial. It made Red smile. "Seems that we have to get used to each other and make the best of the situation. How about taking your luggage inside and having a look at your room?" The boy didn't answer, and Red pointed at the suitcase and the bags. "Is that all you have?"

Now the boy nodded, and Red got up and took the bags. The house wasn't big-he was living on his own-but there was a guestroom he had no use for. He had to find out about the legal situation. Maybe he had to move, find a bigger house. He might need a housekeeper, or a nanny. Sometimes he had to travel. He couldn't leave the boy on his own for weeks. But for now the guestroom was okay.

"We can put your clothes in the cupboard," he suggested, just to say anything at all, "and your other things on the shelf over here. Maybe we need to buy a few new things for you," he went on when they unpacked the bags and he realized that the boy had almost no toys or books and that his clothes were old and worn out. At least, most of them were clean, in opposition to the jeans and the blue sweatshirt the boy was wearing. "How about having a bath and putting on some fresh clothes before having dinner?"

Now the boy really looked scared. "Will you drown me in the bath tub then?"

Red starred at him, confused. "Why the hell would I do that?"

The boy starred back, still distrustfully. "Eddie said he would do it one day."

 _Maybe Nicole really had a good reason to bring him here._ "I will, of course, NOT drown you or hurt you or do anything bad to you," Red clarified, before he said softly, "You can have a shower instead if you don't like to bathe." He was thinking about the boy's name, but he realized that he didn't know it. He looked at the papers Nicole gave him. "Donald," he added a little too late. _What a bloody name. How can you call your son Donald? 1982, June, 30. He probably really is my son._

"Everyone calls me Red," he told him while he took him to the bathroom. "The reason is embarrassing. In my first year at school we were painting, and one of the boys poured a bucket of red paint all over me. It took days before it was all off. Everyone started calling me Red, and, unlike the paint, I kept the name."

Donald hesitated to take his clothes off, and it took Red some time and some more stories before the boy finally did, causing Red just to stare in disbelief at a big hematoma on the boy's left hip. "Who did this to you?"

Donald was visibly embarrassed, but finally whispered, "Eddie pushed me against the wall."

"And this?" Gently Red touched the smaller hematomas on the boy's arm. They looked like someone grabbed him too often, too hard, to drag him somewhere fast, because they had different colors. Some were older, some newer.

"Nicole," Donald's voice was very low, "but she doesn't mean it. She just does it when..." He didn't go on, but it was easy to picture the scene. Obviously, Eddie was violent with Nicole, but she was under his spell. That's why she went back to him, leaving her child behind. When Eddie had threatened to hurt the boy, she first dragged him away fast and hid him somewhere, then, when it actually happened the first time, she decided to give the child away.

Red hoped Nicole would consider leaving her boyfriend. Better sooner rather than later. It would be difficult to find a solution for all of them, but Donald was only six years old, too young to be without his mother over a long period. _She should be with him, or at least see him sometimes._

Red's knowledge of children, cooking, washing, cleaning and all of that stuff was limited. He only came home to sleep and find some rest. Now he tried his best to cook a meal and make the boy comfortable, but at the end of the day he wasn't satisfied with himself.

"Are you scared of the dark?" He asked when he put Donald to bed, remembering his own fears when he had been Donald's age. "I will buy a nightlight tomorrow. For tonight I'll leave the door open, okay? There's a light at the end of the corridor, so it won't be too dark." He looked at the boy whose facial expression hadn't change since the moment Nicole had left him at his door. Withdrawn, trying not to show that he was hurt and desperate. "Shall I read a story to you? I mean you don't have many books, but maybe you like one of the stories?"

"They are for younger kids," Donald replied.

Red thought for a second. "I might have some of my old books." He went to his office and found some boxes with old stuff, including the adventure books he had loved as a boy. "They are for children aged ten to twelve," he said when he returned to Donald's bedroom, "but I don't think it matters." _You are much too old for your age anyway._

He sat down on the edge of the bed and started reading, and after a while, Donald got a little closer. Finally, he leaned his head against Red's chest and Red put an arm around him, feeling relieved about this little approach.

* * *

 _*) Advise: Watch "Sex, Lies, and Videotape", and you know why Nicole chose him. :D_

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_It's the continuation of chapter 9. It was divided into two parts due to its length._

* * *

The following day Red had no other choice but to take the boy to the office with him. He told Donald to wait in his office while he hurried to the staff meeting.

At the end of the meeting he said that he had to take some time off and that he would prefer to work at a different department for a while, work less and especially travel less. Of course, the Admiral asked about the reason, and Red had to explain the situation to him while everyone in the room was listening and staring at him. He felt terrible.

"Any woman can tell you that you are the father of any child," the Admiral said, looking displeased.

"I'm sure she is telling the truth," Red replied.

"How sure?"

"Ninety percent. The time matches, the story matches, the genes-it's the red line of the family..."

"You have a red line in your family, Red?" A Lieutenant Commander he had never liked joked.

"You should sue her," the Admiral advised him. "She can't simply decide that you are in charge now."

"Right at the moment I am in charge," Red retorted, more sharply than intended. "I need to find a school, a nanny, need to buy some stuff... I can't do this while working full time on this project. And who will pay the bill if I sue her?" He added, facing the Admiral, feeling anger and defiance. _Who is he that he thinks he could tell me what to do?_ "Right. The boy will. He's just been left by his mom. He doesn't know me at all. He's confused, scared, and homesick. The last thing he needs is foster care and someone with doubts."

"But you as a father..." The Lieutenant Commander shook his head.

Red could see the doubt on all of the faces around him. He was known as aloof, arrogant, and cynical, all attributes he used to hide his insecurity. "Well, I guess, I have to change." He gathered his things and rushed out of the room.

When he returned to his office, Donald's gaze met his, the one that made him shiver because it was filled with fear, pain, and distrust. "We can go for lunch now," he said softly, "and afterwards we are going to find a school for you, all right?"

"A boarding school?" Donald asked. More distrust, more fear.

"Hell, no. A normal primary school, somewhere close to my house." Red suppressed his impatience. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He reached out, and the boy hurried to get to his side and take his hand. _As if he is scared I would leave him here._ It hurt. _But why should he expect me to be any different than Nicole?_

At the corridor Donald stopped because he couldn't close his jacket with one hand. A second later he looked up at Red, anxiously and full of bad conscience. "Sorry for causing trouble," he whispered.

Red tried to forget his colleagues-the corridor was crowded-and knelt down in front of the boy, helping him to close the jacket. "You don't cause any trouble," he assured him. "Or, to be honest you do," he corrected himself, "but that's your right. That's your job as a child," he joked, "children do cause trouble because they need to be protected, helped, and loved. And it's my job to protect you, help you, love you, and take care of you because it's my responsibility. So, don't be afraid of causing trouble, okay?"

Donald didn't seem convinced at all, instead he looked as if he couldn't hold back his tears any longer. _Not here_ , Red thought in despair, glancing around and seeing that everyone was watching them, even though they tried not to show it. With a sigh he decided to ignore it, pulled the boy into his arms and caressed his head.

But obviously, this wasn't right, either, because Donald backed off, shocked, trying to wipe the tears away. "I'll stop it at once," he promised.

"It's okay," Red assured him.

"Eddie doesn't like it."

"Well, Eddie is a bloody damn asshole!" Red shouted out loud. He would have loved to strangle Nicole's boyfriend with his bare hands.

Donald looked at him in surprise, his eyes shimmering with tears.

"The situation you are in is awkward," Red explained, more softly now. "You mom has just left you with a guy you have never seen in your life before. You have every right to cry."

It seemed a new concept to Donald. It made him think and stop crying. "She's not coming back this time, is she?" He finally asked.

Red sighed. "It isn't the first time she left you somewhere?"

Donald didn't answer directly, "I often thought she wouldn't come back, but she always did. But not this time, right?"

"I doubt she will come back any time soon." Red caressed the boy's cheeks. "Look, I'm not equipped for a child. But I will try," he promised, "I will try to find solutions for this situation, I will try to be a good father for you. I won't send you anywhere, leave you anywhere, or hurt you. But I guess you have to be patient with me. I'll have to get used to it; I have to learn a lot. Will you help me?"

Donald thought about it for a while, before he finally nodded. And all this under the stern eyes of the Admiral who was standing at the end of the corridor, pretending to talk to someone. Red sighed again, got up, picked the boy up, placed him on his hip, and carried him to the elevator, ignoring the whispers and looks. *)

* * *

It took Red about three weeks to realize what kind of ghost he was really facing. He suggested they go on a hike through the woods, taking a picnic with them. Of course, he had thought Donald might like this idea, but the boy looked at him in sheer horror, whispering, "Are you going to leave me there?"

Red starred at him in confusion, "Why the hell would I do that?" Then, a terrible thought crossed his mind, so terrible that he almost didn't dare to speak it out loud, "Did they do that? Nicole and Eddie? Did they go on a hike with you and then leave you behind?"

The boy just sighed, and it seemed he wouldn't answer, but finally he said, "They were too fast. When I reached the end of the road, they were already getting on the bus, and it drove off."

For a second Red was speechless. "How did you get home?"

"I waited for the next bus," Donald replied as if he was used to finding himself in situations like these, "I couldn't remember the name of the station, but the bus driver and some passengers helped me to figure it out."

Red tried to picture the scene, and it almost made him cry. _He must have been awfully scared and hurt._ "What did Nicole and Eddie do when you came home?"

The boy's face got that withdrawn look Red had noticed a few times. It always appeared when he was asking questions Donald obviously didn't want to answer. "They were busy with themselves," he replied monosyllabically.

 _I don't think I want to know what that means._ "How old were you?"

Donald shrugged. "Five?"

"It wasn't the first nor the last time, right?"

Donald hesitated before he finally nodded. "Right."

 _He wasn't shocked or surprised when she left him with me_ , Red realized, _he was just shocked that there wasn't any way back for him this time._ "Listen," he said and gently stroked the boy's arms, "I promise I'll never go anywhere without telling you before. I'll never leave you with anyone you don't know, or at a place you don't know, especially not alone. I promise I'll always come back."

Donald didn't seem convinced. Probably, Nicole had made this promise a few times whenever she had a bad conscience, just to renege it a little later. The ghost Red was facing was the constant abuse of the natural trust a child had in its parents.

* * *

It took Red about two years before Donald would stop being afraid that he would leave him at someone's doorstep, at a supermarket, or at any other place. Before he stopped asking him if he was _really_ coming back-from the office, from the grocery, and especially from a journey.

He formed the habit of telling Donald exactly what he was going to do, where, when, how long it would take, and who he would meet with. He showed him every place he used to go to, so the boy could visualize where he would be. He was always in a hurry now so as to never be late. Not one time, not a minute.

Even when Donald finally stopped clenching his hand, his jacket, or his belt, Red would have the feeling that the little hand was there, scared of losing touch and getting lost.

It took him days to get the first little smile, weeks before the boy would enjoy anything, months before he felt at home.

Sitting here today on the sofa, his legs stretched out on the armchair, with Donald fast asleep on his chest, Red remembered the first time he had managed to make the boy laugh.

On his way to his car somewhere downtown he had come by a sign offering yoga lessons, and, following a sudden impulse, he went inside and told the strange yoga-guru the whole story. The old, white-haired man sat cross-legged opposite him and listened to his doubts and fears without interrupting him.

"It's like he's frozen. He's scared to move, to say anything, to touch anything in fear he might break it accidentally." It seemed as if Red had talked for hours about all the things he had noticed and learned, before he finally asked, "Can you help us?"

Later, during their first yoga lesson Red cursed himself for this idea. He had never liked sports, he even had difficulties sitting cross-legged, and now he was trying to form strange figures with his body, using muscles he didn't know he had at all. It obviously looked so funny that Donald started laughing, and couldn't stop, although he was visibly appalled at his own behavior. But Red didn't want him to stop, and made even more contorted movements, rubber-faced, so Donald finally forgot about being ashamed of laughing.

 _I made a fool out of myself, just for you_ , he thought now and caressed Donald's hair carefully, not wanting to wake him up. _And that was worse than dying for you would be._ He had been so uptight back then, full of self-consciousness and inferiority complexes that it had been hard for him to change.

In the later years, Red thought he had fought back that fear, and he was horrified when he realized that it was still there, somewhere deep inside the boy. It became clear to him when Donald was fourteen or fifteen.

Donald had told him he would spend the night at a friend's house. Instead, he went to a beach party. The police arrested the whole bunch of teenagers because of too much alcohol, drugs, and noise, and Red had to pick up his son in the middle of the night at the police station. He was angry with him and didn't talk to him on the way home.

In the early morning he woke up when Donald sat down on the edge of his bed.

"You are really mad at me, aren't you?"

"Of course," Red replied. "You lied to me."

"You would have said no."

"That's no excuse."

"Will you give me away now?" There it was again, that look. Fear, pain, distrust, close to tears. It pierced right through him and caused a terrible pain. He realized that it would always be there. Nicole had implanted it in Donald in his early childhood, and there was obviously nothing Red could do to get rid of it. _I guess, not even dying would help._

He didn't tell him when he found out that Nicole had committed suicide only three years after she had left Donald at his door. It would have been okay to tell him that she was dead, but he didn't dare tell him that she had finally left Eddie but not to join her son. She hadn't loved him enough to stay alive. Telling Don would just have made things worse.

He didn't say anything when Donald hesitated to move to his own apartment or even to live on a college campus, although he had a long ride every day. He never tried to push him into a committed relationship, although he sometimes felt sorry for the girls Donald brought home with him. The only one who could fight this fear of being left was Donald himself.

 _But probably it's impossible for him_ , Red thought now, feeling sad and guilty. He knew that Liz mainly left because of him. He could try to find her and tell her the truth. On the other hand, the success would have been vague, the situation forced.

He sighed and looked at his son's face. It was like on the first day they met, and for a moment it felt as if nothing had ever changed.

* * *

 _*) Yeah, I was thinking of "Boston Legal" when I wrote this scene. ;)_

 _I promise I'll try to post the final chapter as soon as possible._

 _Many thanks to my beta reader, padria95 :)_


	11. Chapter 11

_About six months later._

* * *

It was almost ten p.m. when Don heard a soft knocking at the front door. He put the magazine aside he had been reading and went into the hall, guessing it was a neighbor coming by looking for a lost cat or in need of some bread.

When he answered the door he stared in disbelief at the person in front of him. "Liz!"

She squirmed with embarrassment, smiling shyly. "I know, I shouldn't have turned up like this, but," she broke off and paused, before she blurted out, "I'm sorry about taking the money!"

"What money?" He asked in the same tone Red used to make him forget about it six months earlier.

"The money we," again, Liz broke off when she realized that he obviously hadn't told anyone about it. She had guessed it when no one ever tried to arrest her. She had been careful, of course, had used all her knowledge to avoid getting caught, but there was never any sign that Don had filed charges against her. Maybe he didn't because he really liked her, maybe he didn't because he didn't want to interfere with the mission. She had heard that Vincent had been found guilty in the meantime, and some politicians and other high ranking people had resigned from their posts. She assumed that the mission was over now.

"So, you are back," Don stated, not sure what to make of the situation. There was the sudden urge to take her in his arms, and an inner voice warning him to be careful. "How did you find out where I live?"

"I followed you the other day." Liz smiled before she got serious again. "I missed you," she confessed and blushed. She had enjoyed her trip, had seen a lot, had had some fun, but something hadn't been right. It hadn't been guilt because of taking the money-although she felt guilty-it had been the feeling of having left something important behind. When she had left she had the firm resolution to sleep with any nice guy she met. In the end she hadn't even flirted with anyone.

"I have lived as if I felt obligated to celibacy because I couldn't get you out of my head. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore." She blushed even more. "If you don't want me, I'll have to live with it," she added, "but I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't tried, no matter what the consequences might be."

Don suppressed a smile when he looked in her sparkling blue eyes, at her slightly opened lips and her reddened cheeks. His look went down to her knee-length coat; it was open and under it she was wearing a black dress with leather boots up to the knees. Everything about her seemed to shout, _Please, take me back!_

He hadn't expected her to come back, and had tried to forget her, live without her, but he couldn't. He was longing for her in his dreams, thinking about her in all kinds of situations, often thought of how nice it would have been if she had been with him to do this or to see that.

His body didn't care about his careful, distrustful heart. It wanted her. Now. Here.

"I missed you too," he admitted and pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, soft and warm, his hands found their way under her coat, caressing her body.

Liz sighed in relief and pleasure, nestling into him closely. He might have lied to her, but she couldn't help but feel completely safe and secure, and she knew there wasn't anyone else in the world who could make her feel that way.

She squeaked in surprise when he picked her up, closed the front door with his foot, and carried her upstairs. She put her arms around his neck, leaned her head against his, and closed her eyes, feeling like coming home.

She opened her eyes when he put her on his bed and opened the zippers of her boots. She put the little bag she was carrying somewhere on the floor and took off the coat while she looked around. He hadn't turned on the light, but the moonlight was pouring in through the window. It wasn't a special room, just a normal bedroom of a single man-a cupboard, some shelves, a queen-size bed.

"Am I still your only one?" She asked.

"Well, you left me," he teased her, "and it has been six months. Of course, I had about a hundred women in the meantime." He had managed to take her boots off and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding her legs across his lap. "Yes, you are still the only one," he said, now serious.

"During our affair it was just an affair." Liz put her hands on his that lay on her thighs. "When I started thinking about making more of it, this guy, Tom, turned up and it got complicated. When I left and travelled to all the places I ever wanted to see I realized that I had been living in a cocoon for years. As if I had been living in my own universe in which there wasn't room for anyone else. Travelling destroyed this cocoon," she went on thoughtfully. "First, I felt free, but then I started longing for you, each day it got worse. I felt lost and lonely without you. I wanted to sleep with you, or just lay in your arms, kiss you, simply be with you, share all the things I saw and experienced with you. I really felt sick in the end, and nothing could make me happy. Isn't that absolutely crazy and stupid?"

"I guess being in love makes you crazy and stupid," Don deadpanned. At the same time his heart beat faster, and he felt an overwhelming feeling of tenderness. _She loves me._ This thought made him feel warm inside. _And she came back, although she had to fear I would arrest her because of stealing the money._

This confession had cost Liz a considerable amount of effort. She swallowed hard. "Do you like me a little bit at least?"

"Let me see... I had no interest in any other women, I was sad when you left and felt dead-guilty, I couldn't sleep nor eat properly, I couldn't stop thinking about you, you were naughty and made me lie to my superiors. No, I don't think I like you that much." Don shook his head, pretending to be serious.

She giggled, feeling relieved. "You could give me a spanking for being naughty," she suggested and gave him an enticing glance.

He laughed. "You would just enjoy it."

"Then kiss me."

"That's no punishment." Don released her legs and got up to get undressed.

Liz took off her dress while watching him, his shimmering white skin, his toned body, and every move of his muscles. _He's so beautiful_ , she adored him. "I'm not sure if I deserve a punishment. I guess we are even." That he was Reddington's son was still a problem for her, but she had decided to ignore it. _It's not like they'll meet every day or even live together. And if he can ignore all the things Red has done, he can surely ignore what I've done._

Instead of continuing the hardly begun prelude, Don immediately lay down between her thighs. Liz opened them willingly; she had missed him so much that she didn't need any stimulation.

He hardly moved, simply enjoyed being connected with her. Instead, he kissed her tenderly and caressed her gently, trying to show her with every kiss and every touch what he felt for her.

He had never loved her like that before, and Liz felt like walking on air while she dedicated herself to him and caressed him in the same way. It seemed to take hours to reach the peak, but they both didn't care. It wasn't important tonight.

* * *

When Liz woke up sunlight was pouring in through the window. She was still cuddled up in Don's arms, and she had never felt better and happier in her life. For a moment she just lay there, enjoyed his warmth and the feeling of being with him, watching him in his sleep.

Finally, she decided to surprise him with breakfast in bed. Carefully, she freed herself from him and got up. She put on her dress and left the room silently, sneaking barefoot through the corridor and downstairs.

In the doorway of the kitchen she stopped in disbelief, staring at the man who was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

Red looked up and put the newspaper down. "I live here," he replied with an amused smile, "it's my house." _Thank God, she came back!_ He thought, feeling relieved.

"You live here," she repeated and couldn't believe it. Her own thoughts came back to her mind, _It's not like they'll meet every day or even live together._

Now he folded the newspaper and put it aside, using this chance to finally tell her the truth. "Lizzie, the one thing we couldn't tell you-and many other people, not just you-under any circumstances is the fact that Raymond Reddington doesn't exist. Not before a jury found Vincent guilty and we were able to bust his group. Reddington was created years ago," he went on, "a legend, a mighty criminal who is pulling the strings of all kinds of crimes, with connections to all kinds of people, a phantom that can't be caught because he's too clever and too powerful. It wasn't to fool you," he stressed, "we needed someone of the same caliber as Vincent. Someone he would take seriously enough to make a mistake. He wouldn't care about the FBI, but he would care about a devious bad guy who obviously had contacts to intelligence services and the FBI as well-and had an interest in the woman **he** was looking for."

It made sense to her, although she still didn't like that she had been part of this game without knowing its rules. "So, who are you really?"

"Admiral Alan Roebuck. I'm an Intelligence Officer with the ONI. My nickname since I was a little boy has been Red, though. That's why we came up with that name."

"And you are Don's father." Liz sat down on a chair opposite him, feeling overwhelmed by the new information. Again, she felt guilty because of the money. She knew Red had seen it, and when he wasn't even a criminal...

"Nice to meet you, daughter-in-law to-be," he smiled and put forth his hand. "I hope you'll stay a while."

Obviously, Red had decided to ignore what she had done. She took his hand and shook it with a laugh. "Nice to meet you, Admiral."

"We were unsure about Donald being part of this operation," Red went on, "not because he wasn't a good agent, but because he's my child. We feared for a moment like the one Tom-or whatever his name is-provoked when we met at the tank. I wouldn't hesitate to protect him, and everyone would wonder why a super-criminal would protect an FBI agent or is even related to him. On the other hand, the group of people knowing the truth about Raymond Reddington was supposed to be as small as possible. That's why Donald became part of the team. When Tom told you Donald was my son," he gave a small, scornful laugh when he remembered how shocked he had been at that moment, "I thought he would also know who I really am. Later, it turned out that they got hold of the DNA somehow and matched it. So, they luckily only knew that we are related."

 _He really would have given his life for Don, it definitely wasn't a show._ Liz glanced around in the cozy kitchen. "So, this is the house where you raised him?"

"Yes." Red nodded and smiled happily. "We also have other apartments for several missions, but when it is possible we come back here and spend some time together."

"What about his mom?" She asked carefully.

"It's good you came back," he said instead of a direct answer. "I guess you two share the fear of being left. Your father left you in front of a hospital to save you from Vincent, Donald's mom left him at my door to save him from her violent boyfriend. She never came back. I'm his only family."

 _The one he couldn't tell me about_ , Liz added in her thoughts. Now she fully understood why Don had felt obligated to lie to her at this point. "Must have been difficult when you suddenly had to take care of your son. How old was he?"

"Six and a half," Red replied. "Yes, it was difficult, especially because he didn't know me and I hadn't known up to that point that I had a child at all. But looking back I would say it was the best day of my life."

 _He really looks satisfied and happy_ , she thought, _a proud, loving father._ He was a completely different man now, here in his kitchen, wearing a simple pullover and a pair of old, comfortable looking trousers. _And woolen socks with a hole_ , she noticed. She suppressed a laugh.

"Why didn't you adopt him, so he would bear your name?" Liz asked after a moment of silence.

"I did, but for the mission it was better to change a few details in his background, pretending he never left his mother and his alleged father. It would have been too obvious if he was the son of an admiral. By the way, Vincent did what I never did-undertook a paternity test."

"You were never sure about it?" She wondered.

"Back then it wasn't common and not possible," Red explained, "and I was almost sure that it was true. Vincent just proved that my instinct wasn't wrong."

"And if he wasn't your flesh and blood?"

Red shrugged. "Donald was such a cute kid, I didn't care much about that question." He got up and gestured for her to follow him to the living room and pointed at a framed picture on one of the shelves. "One of the first times I made him smile," he said proudly. "It was hard work, believe me. He was an awfully serious child, traumatized, scared, and extremely careful."

"He was really cute." Liz felt warm inside while she was looking at the picture. Softly she caressed the frame. "He still has the same smile-when he's able to leave the serious agent aside," she added.

"Not much has changed ever since," Red remarked. "By the way, Donald takes his coffee with milk, no sugar," he advised her, "and you should take some of that jam." He lead her back to the kitchen and pointed at a shelf. "He thinks it has too many calories, but he loves it. Our neighbor makes it, and it's delicious."

She stared at him in confusion. "What?"

He grinned. "I'm guessing you came downstairs to make breakfast."

"Oh, yes."

Red laughed, took a tray from one of the shelves, and showed her where to find dishes and food.

When she finally went upstairs, carrying the tray, she had to admit to herself that she might not like Red the criminal, but she liked the admiral.

Carefully she opened the door of Don's bedroom, slipped inside and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the tray next to her and looked at the man she had spent the night with, the man she had come back for. _Yes, I do love him_ , she thought and smiled in delight, feeling warm inside. _I should consider staying a while._ She leaned forward to kiss him...

* * *

 _Again, many thanks to my beta reader, padria95! :)_

 _Thanks to everyone who wrote a review. :) I hope you enjoyed the story._

 _I'm thinking of writing a sequel and already have a story in mind. Is there anything you would like to see revealed (possible missing parts of this story)? What would you like going to happen?_


End file.
